


All Things Beautiful

by cato_universe



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 5 Times, First Kiss, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Trauma, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cato_universe/pseuds/cato_universe
Summary: “You will be okay,” Nines promises, with all the strength he’s able to summon. “But don’t talk. Save your strength to breathe.”“Then…then tell me…” Gavin rasps out. “T-tell me about something good. About something beautiful."orFive times  Nines tells Gavin about things he finds beautiful and one time Gavin answers.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 26
Kudos: 242





	All Things Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo I'M BACK!!! XD
> 
> Life has been shitty (lol) in general, and that has affected my creative output. I was so relieved to be able to write this! Writing is really healing for me, so, well...I'm glad to have it back.
> 
> Ok, so. WARNING. The past abuse thing is implicit, nothing even remotely graphic (I still marked the fic M because, honestly? better safe than sorry). Basically, Gavin is kidnapped and beaten. Nines deviates to find him. Gavin deals with trauma. This is hurt/comfort with super fluff at the end, but now you know. Read accordingly.

**1\. Trees**

Even before he has a name, Nines knows what his mission is. He’s a prototype, meant to test the upgrades made to the RK800’s model. He exists to test the limits of both the RK’s software and hardware: durability, strength, social protocols, the ability to integrate into human society. And, unlike Connor, Nines knows he is not meant to fail.

So, from Nines’ perspective, it makes utmost sense that he’s sent to the Detroit DPD and partnered with Detective Gavin Reed.

Gavin is brash, arrogant, opinionated and hates androids, so Nines knows from the start that this man is his test. If he manages to work well with him --win him over-- and they are consistently the most efficient team on the force, it will prove that Nines is perfect as a prototype, will validate CyberLife’s efforts and the money invested on him and will move on android’s production to the next level.

There are two things, however, that Nines doesn’t expect.

The first is, of course, the Revolution.

The second...well, the second is troublesome, really.

Nines doesn’t expect to learn so much from Gavin Reed.

See, Nines _was_ provided with the ability to understand humans’ psychological complexities. His psychological protocols are really advanced, as a matter of fact, because he needs to understand human behavior in order to efficiently adapt. So, technically, Nines has been able to understand people from the start.

However, his first software instability comes when he sees Gavin Reed _smile_. And it’s odd because it’s not like Nines hasn’t ever seen it. Technically, at that point, he had seen the gesture plenty of times: smiling and laughing with Officer Chen, as a polite every day gesture, and even the mean spirited one he used when he insulted someone.

Yet, that spring morning when Gavin lifts his eyes towards the tree swaying above them and _smiles_ , something in Nines glitches for a second.

Softness. There is a softness to this smile that Nines has never seen before, a side of Gavin he has not suspected could exist. And because Nines is made to solve puzzles, he watches Gavin closer from then on.

He is not what Nines expects.

Gavin is brash and arrogant, but he works harder than any of the humans Nines knows. He’s opinionated, but he’s also brave, and he’s not afraid to stand his ground even when it’s not in his best interest to do so. He hates androids, except...not really. Gavin seems to hate everyone equally, but donates money to animal shelters and volunteers once in a while.

Gavin’s smile is sharp, cutting like a knife, except sometimes it’s small, vulnerable, especially late at night when they have been working for longer than necessary and Nines brings Gavin a cup of coffee.

From Gavin, Nines learns something his protocols should have made him aware of since the beginning: that there are different kinds of smiles, that feelings are not straight-forward, that living is complex, that everyone is deeply flawed.

From Gavin, Nines learns what it is to be a person.

But Gavin is who he is, and so it comes as no surprise when he finally manages to piss off the wrong person. He’s missing for three days, and the stress is so crushing that Nines doesn’t know when exactly he deviates.

By the time he finds him, Nines has thoroughly tested the limits of both his software and his physical abilities, but it doesn’t matter anymore because when he holds Gavin’s battered body, gently sitting him up so the man’s raspy breaths come easier, he is 100% a deviant.

“H-hey there, tin can,” Gavin manages, voice so rough it sounds painful, and his cough is wet and ugly, and Nines has already called an ambulance.

“Help will be here soon, Detective,” he answers, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He wants to hold Gavin closer, closer, as if that somehow will help with the pain the man is so obviously in.

Gavin grins, reopening his split lip, and _this_ smile is haughty and wild, as if Gavin has been in a bar fight and not abducted for sixty eight hours.

“You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke. But he chokes again, his body tensing in agony at having to cough.

“Shut up, Gavin,” Nines mildly scolds him. He gently cradles his fingers through the man’s messy hair, combing it out of his swollen eyes. He doesn’t miss how Gavin leans into the gesture.

“Man,” Gavin grimaces, and coughs some blood. “One w-would think you’d be happy to see me.”

“Shut up,” Nines repeats. He has never felt so much in his life, and he feels his creators must have been mistaken about his processing capacity because right then he feels on the edge of crashing. “The ambulance will be here in 3:32 minutes.”

Gavin closes his eyes, and for a moment, the facade falls. He struggles to breathe for an endless moment, and Nines wills him to fight, to be his stubborn, defiant self this time too.

Then he tries to talk again, and Nines is ready to really scold him this time when Gavin opens his eyes. It’s like a lance of ice pierces Nines because he sees Gavin clearly this time, and berates himself for not understanding Gavin’s way to deflect fear.

“You will be okay,” Nines promises, with all the strength he’s able to summon. “But don’t talk. Save your strength to breathe.”

“Then…then tell me…” Gavin rasps out. “T-tell me about something good. About something beautiful.”

And Nines...if he hadn’t already deviated, he’d have deviated right at that moment. Because androids are programmed to recognize aesthetically pleasing things, but beauty is something completely personal.

Nines’ LED is already red, but it whirls as he frantically scans his memories, applying the few new filters --his not yet explored preferences-- that his deviant status has granted him. It’s like all of CyberLife’s skill and money were poured into Nines for this one moment, because the strain is almost too much --almost-- before he lands on a memory.

Gavin’s soft smile as he looks up at a tree.

Nines had looked up too then as well, but dismissed it because he hadn’t been deviant then.

“The little pieces of sky that can be seen when you look up from under a tree,” Nines say at last. He feels lost as he talks, but Gavin is looking at him, and so he forces himself to keep going. To keep looking, although for some reason it hurts to talk. “Although they seem the same color at first glance, the leaves are different colors under the sun. They...when you’re directly under a tree and you look up, the green of the leaves makes them look alive. Alive, and almost transparent, and...beautiful.”

Gavin hums, but doesn’t try to speak. His pulse is becoming weaker and weaker, and his breathing is a weird hiss now.

“The sun that comes through the leaves looks like puddles of light,” Nines continues. He can already hear the ambulance in the distance, even as Gavin’s breathing becomes shallower and shallower. “Gavin, don’t you dare give up now!”

Gavin is unconscious when he’s taken away to the hospital, and Nines just stands there, looking at the ambulance turn a corner, trying to overcome the keen ache of the absence of Gavin’s weight in his arms, his warmth pressed against his chest.

It’s Connor who snaps Nines of the haze he’s in. Nines has never been kind to Connor, but nevertheless there’s empathy in his predecessors eyes when he looks at him, and Nines understands without words.

In silence, Nines climbs into Hank’s car, and out of all the overwhelming things that he’s feeling --not all of which he can name-- gratefulness towards Connor and Hank is one of the most prominent.

* * *

**2\. Cats**

When Gavin’s breathing shifts, Nines is immediately alert.

The hospital room is barren and sterile, and under the white light of the long lamp above the bed, Gavin looks pale, the bruises he’s covered in darker in contrast.

It’s only because the doctors had said Gavin wouldn’t wake up for another 8 hours or so, that Nines doesn’t alert Tina immediately of the shift in Gavin’s condition. On the contrary, Nines is surprised when he looks over at the bed and sees Gavin --stubborn even in this-- opening his eyes slowly.

Gavin looks around and his heart picks up, and although this is something Nines wishes he never has to see again, the panic in Gavin’s eyes is too clear not to recognize.

Nines is by his bedside in an instant.

“Gavin,” he calls. This is the first time as a deviant that he has needed to soften his voice, and he doesn’t know if he’s successful. However, Gavin’s eyes snap to him immediately, and the expression that crosses his face is too complicated for Nines to decipher right then.

“You’re at the hospital,” he tries to reassure him. “You’re safe now.”

Gavin gurgles something in answer, unable to talk due to his bruised lungs, the sound muffled by the ventilation mask he’s wearing. He looks confused, and then distressed when he cannot raise his left hand, which is in a cast, his stress climbing up and up right in front of Nines’ eyes.

That’s when he remembers.

_Tell me about something beautiful._

“There’s a cat that lives in the alley behind the DPD,” Nines says into the silence of the hospital room, his words strange over the sound of the life support machines Gavin is hooked into. And it is awkward, blunt, but it has the effect of redirecting Gavin’s attention away from himself. “Like a tabby, but three colored. It has a white belly.”

Gavin blinks, but stops struggling, so Nines keeps talking.

“Three colored cats are always female,” he monotones, a fact he has just found online. “And the color patterns on this one are really striking. One of her legs is completely orange, and she has black stripes like a normal tabby. She’s really beautiful.”

Gavin stares for a couple of seconds, but Nines can tell he’s no longer panicking. Still, he keeps talking about the cat, describing her as well as he knows how until Gavin’s eyes become heavy, giving away his exhaustion.

Still, infuriating as he is, he fights.

He fights sleep with the same stubborn determination he has fought everything else, and it’s strangely heart breaking, and Nines cannot bear it, so he sits on the edge of Gavin’s bed and takes his good hand between his.

“Sleep,” he whispers. “I will watch over you.”

Gavin’s hand twitches, but as if finally reassured by the touch --or maybe by Nines’ promise-- he finally relaxes. His breathing becomes even again as he falls back asleep, and it’s not until then that Nines remembers his promise to Officer Chen --Tina-- and texts her about the shift in Gavin’s condition.

However, even when she comes, true to his promise, Nines doesn’t leave the room until Gavin awakens onces more.

* * *

**3\. The sunrise**

When Gavin returns to work, things become weird between them.

It’s the fault of the news that he is a deviant, Nines is fairly sure. Gavin cannot --does not-- look him in the eye for a few days after that, and he becomes distant.

When Nines was a machine, he would not have said he was close to Gavin, but it’s only after Gavin retreats under a mask of cold indifference that Nines notices how mistaken he had been.

With bitterness, Nines realizes his protocols had been efficient here too. They had managed to make him befriend Gavin.

As a result of this rift, their work suffers. It’s not that noticeable, and Nines does not care about numbers anymore, and if no one comments it’s because they all know what Gavin has been through. He still has his left arm on a sling, and although he wears long sleeves, the bruises on his face have not quite yet faded.

Nines hates this new dynamic. He misses the Gavin he remembers from before he was deviant, the Gavin that was loud and in his face, but never censored himself around Nines. The one who would seek his company late at night to have a coffee in silence, who would make Nines the butt of jokes only he laughed at.

These memories are the ones that guide him to the break room one night. It’s late, past midnight, and Gavin is, as always, ignoring Captain Fowler’s explicit orders not to work after hours.

In the desk across from him, Nines is doing some boring administrative work only to keep him company, not because Gavin needs it. So when Gavin leaves his own desk with a frustrated huff, Nines knows his break is going to involve coffee.

Nines is not sure of what he’s doing when he follows Gavin into the break room. He stands awkwardly by the door, feeling clumsy now that his social protocols don’t automatically kick in. However, he _wants_ to make Gavin a cup of coffee, craves the connection of doing something for someone else, so, because Gavin’s arm hinders him, Nines walks past him, takes the Dumb Bitch Juice mug from his hands --a present from Officer Chen--, and makes him a coffee.

Gavin lets him. He watches Nines move through the room with ease, but doesn’t quite look him in the eye until the android places the coffee on the counter in front of him.

When Gavin speaks at last, his voice is low, subdued.

“Was it all a lie?”

Nines doesn’t need clarification. He has wondered the same thing often, and he doesn’t have an answer. It feels like the person in all the memories he has of Gavin wasn’t him, and yet... yet there’s a strange layer of feeling now that he didn’t notice before. Feelings he couldn’t have had before.

“My protocols guided my interactions with everyone I came in contact with,” Nines says, and loathes the truth.

Some complicated feelings cross Gavin’s face, something too close to hurt and loss to consider. Nines watches in silence, wishing he knew how to fix whatever has broken between them but finding himself unable to.

“That time…” Gavin starts, but stops himself. Instead, he drinks his coffee, and the silence stretches unto the uncomfortable.

And because Nines doesn’t know how to fix things, and Gavin looks like he’s somehow hurting, he blurts out, “I watched the sunrise this morning.”

Gavin flinches, looking at him with confusion, but Nines soldiers on, clinging with all this might to the one thing between them that has not been touched by CyberLife.

“I had never watched the sunrise before today. I liked the moment the sun rose from between the buildings, but...I think I like the moment just before dawn best,” he explains. “The sky was grey, turning silver just before changing to blue. There were stars in the sky still, and it felt...like this one moment of stillness before everything went into motion. It was beautiful.”

The silence after Nines’ monologue is heavy, and he almost doesn’t dare to look at Gavin. However, when he does, he discovers the man is already watching him with thoughtful eyes, as if he’s trying to figure him out.

“I see,” is Gavin’s only answer. It’s simple, but it gives hope to Nines because even though Gavin doesn’t say anything else, the silence between them becomes lighter.

When, forty minutes later, Gavin announces that they should go home, he looks less tense, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He does not condescendingly pat Nines’ shoulder to move him along, and although the change grieves Nines, he consoles himself thinking that this change might be for the better.

* * *

**4\. People**

They do not return to how they were, and Nines cannot decide if that fact grieves him or makes him happy.

Now that he’s not using his protocols as a crutch, he discovers that building a relationship takes effort. However, Nines also discovers he himself is stubborn, and he sets himself to the task of rebuilding his relationships from the ground up.

And then, things start to go unexpectedly well with Gavin. They slowly find their way around each other again, their conversations stop being careful, their interactions less stilted. In the dead hours of their job, while on their way to meet a witness or a stakeout, they start talking about things other than work.

It’s like they’re slowly getting to know each other, and Nines would be happy for this, except…

Gavin is not okay.

Nines had known it was impossible he’d be okay after what he went through, but seeing it happen in front of his eyes is heartbreaking.

Nines knows he’s in mandatory therapy, and that Gavin is coping by burying himself in his work, and to an outsider he might look okay, but he’s not. He’s quieter than he’s always been, looks pale and tired all the time. He no longer smiles.

It all comes to a head one evening. They are discussing a case with Connor and Hank, and Gavin has looked out of sorts all day long, twitchy and distracted, spacing out when he’d normally be alert.

Nines has been monitoring him all day, but it’s Hank who dares to bring it up.

“You okay there, Reed?”

Gavin blinks as if startled, only to immediately rub his eyes in a gesture of exhaustion.

“I’m fine, old man,” usually, his tone is obnoxious, mocking, but today his words don’t carry any bite. “I just need a coffee.” He leaves without saying more, and Nines is sure all three of them notice the dizzy spell Gavin goes through as he stands up.

Hank makes a gesture to follow, but Nines stops him.

“I’ll go after him.”

He finds Gavin in the hallway around the corner, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.

“Gavin?” Nines calls to him so as not to startle him, and Gavin pulls away from the wall, trying to put his armor back on.

Nines doesn’t care about that. He walks straight into Gavin’s personal space, taking brief note of the way the man’s heartbeat picks up at the closeness but dismissing it for later. Instead, Nines cups Gavin’s face with one hand, confirming his predictions with solid data.

“You’re running a fever,” he informs him, and wants to say more but he’s distracted by the way Gavin unravels at the touch. His eyes close and he sighs, and the way he leans into the touch makes something wild flare up within Nines, the wish to take Gavin in his arms and never let him go too strong to resist.

So he doesn't.

Gavin sags against him, letting himself be held. Having Gavin in his arms feels indescribably good, and a sense of peace fills Nines, because Gavin is alive, and here-- he can feel his warmth, his heartbeat against Nines’ own thirium pump, and it’s like something that’s been broken inside Nines heals at the contact.

He swallows against nothing, unnecessarily, because he feels like this golden thing he feels for Gavin might spill out of him if he does not.

“You’re overworked,” he informs Gavin, matter-of-factly.

Gavin chuckles, the sound soft between them.

“You need rest.”

“I won’t be able to,” Gavin answers, and he sounds exhausted.

“You have to try.”

A heartbeat.

Then Gavin nods weakly and --sparing only a second to send Connor a message-- Nines takes him home.

Gavin dozes on and off in the car, but when they arrive at Gavin's apartment, the man doesn’t make a gesture to get out. This is a different place from where Gavin was abducted, a place Nines has never seen before, and he takes a couple of seconds to scan the street, making sure there are no threats.

Gavin waits in silence, as if he knows what Nines is doing --which perhaps he does-- and only when Nines’ LED goes back to blue does Gavin open the passenger door to step out of the car.

Nines follows. Gavin neither stops him nor comments when Nines closes the apartment door behind him, but it doesn’t escape Nines’ notice how Gavin has three locks on the door and makes sure to check each one twice before stepping further inside.

In silence, Nines looks around. This new apartment is mostly empty, the boxes of Gavin’s belongings still piled up here and there. He watches in silence as Gavin methodically checks every room and window, and, at last, sits on the couch, looking small and lost.

Nines wonders if this is what it feels to want to cry.

In a swift motion, he kneels before Gavin --ignoring the man’s surprise-- and takes his shoes off. He helps him out of his jacket too, picks up a discarded hoodie and pair of sweats and hands them to him. He turns his back as Gavin changes, and instead occupies himself with locating blankets, because it’s obvious to him that Gavin needs to be in a position of control over his own space, and the couch offers him a view of all the apartment doors, away from the windows.

Gavin doesn’t resist when Nines pushes him so he’s laying on the couch, his head cushioned by a pillow and buried under blankets. His eyes are drooping, and he looks about a minute away from passing out, and still he says, “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Why?” Nines asks him, noncommittally, as he pulls the coffee table away from the wall and sits on it in front of Gavin.

At the question, Gavin closes his eyes tightly and swallows. He’s fiercely fighting with himself, and Nines cannot do anything but bear witness.

“They…” he starts. “I...they broke in while I was asleep,” Gavin confesses at last, and this is something Nines had known, but hearing it from Gavin feels like a punch to the gut.

Scared. Gavin is scared and Nines’ LED whirls yellow once because in that moment he wants to hurt the people that have made Gavin this way.

He takes a deep breath to cool himself, and instead holds Gavin’s hand in his.

“I’ll watch over you while you sleep,” he tells him, something he has already promised once and will do however many times are necessary.

Gavin looks uncertain, and because Nines does not know how else to communicate what he’s feeling, he takes a moment to think back on his week and quickly chooses the memory he thinks is more appropriate.

“There’s this shop near my flat,” he begins, and if he chooses this memory in particular it’s because he thinks Gavin needs to be reminded that there are good people in the world too. “I don’t know if the owners are a couple, or best friends, or siblings, but whenever I walk past their shop, they always look so happy.”

Nines pauses to look down at Gavin, and the man is listening with such rapt concentration that anyone would think Nines was telling a riveting tale of adventure, and not this mundane thing he notices every morning.

“The taller woman keeps flowers in a window box. Petunias and geraniums. Red, white and pink. They sell yarn,” Nines smiles. “And sometimes, when I walk past, they will be having a workshop. There are always mostly women. They chat and laugh while they work, and they knit, and sometimes, afterwards, there will be small yarn animals on the window display.”

Nines is not sure when Gavin starts to cry, he does it so silently. When he notices, Nines stops, alarmed, but Gavin squeezes his hand. “Keep going,” he requests, and Nines is not sure he understands, but he obeys nonetheless.

“I went into the shop for the first time earlier this week, and the owners were so excited. They gave me a ton of advice. They were having a workshop when I was there, and a teenage boy knocked off a cup of tea into the floor with his elbow. And the woman I was talking to, instead of scolding him, asked him if he was okay and laughed as she cleaned up the tea.” Nines reaches to wipe Gavin’s tears with gentle fingers. “They’re good people, Gavin. Kind. And the way they seem to enjoy life so honestly, even if it’s nothing extraordinary...I find that beautiful.”

Like poison coming out from a wound, it takes a long time for Gavin to stop crying. But, with Nines holding his hand, in the cocoon of safety that the android has created for him, Gavin finally sleeps and doesn’t wake up until well into the next morning.

* * *

**5\. Music**

After that, they fall into a routine of sorts. Once a week, usually on Saturdays, Nines stays over to help Gavin sleep. It can’t be nearly as much sleep as Gavin needs, but the man looks better somehow, like this one day break from the fear is giving him a foothold from which to fight.

And Gavin fights. He’s stubborn, and brave, and Nines is so proud of him that he feels like bursting from so much emotion.

It feels impossible for Nines that no one notices his feelings for Gavin. He has tried not to put a name to them, tried not to think too much about them. He’s been scared before --he cannot forget those dreadful hours in which Gavin had been missing-- but this fear is different, because this is the fear of having a broken heart.

So Nines does not dare dwell on his feelings, and focuses on enjoying every moment he has with Gavin, celebrating his victories even if they mean Gavin needs him less and less.

As the months go by, and Gavin stops needing him to fall asleep, Nines cannot help but feel rejected. Even so, he smiles, because his feelings of wanting to be the center of this man’s world are not selfish enough to stop him from being happy for him and his triumphs.

So, because Gavin has stopped needing him to fall asleep, he doesn’t expect the call.

He’s listening to a podcast while crocheting --a hobby he has taken up and greatly enjoys-- when Gavin’s number pops up in his HUB. It’s past one in the morning, so Nines is already out of his chair and half-way to the door even before he has picked up.

“Nines?”

“Are you okay?” he blurts out, and in the second of stunned silence Nines feels like he might as well shut down, the fear of Gavin coming to harm again that strong.

“Huh, yeah?” Gavin’s voice answers, confused. There’s another beat of silence --in which Nines leans against a wall, overwhelmed by relief-- before Gavin realizes. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t look at the time...I thought...I thought you didn’t sleep so I…”

“It’s okay,” Nines cuts him off, because it’s the truth. “I don’t sleep. I just...I didn’t expect the call, and it took me by surprise.”

“I’m sorry, this was a dumb idea…”

“No,” Nines interrupts again, this time harshly. “You may call me whenever you want to.” He hears Gavin swallow at the other end of the line. “Gavin?”

“Yeah,” Gavin mumbles. “Yeah, okay.”

They talk about unimportant stuff. Gavin chats about some old TV shows he’s watching with Tina, and in exchange, Nines tells him about his crochet project. Gavin seems to find this amusing, so he asks a lot of questions that Nines is happy to answer.

And it is...nice. It’s nice to talk like this, about nothing, because Gavin is interested in Nines' opinion about inconsequential things, and it makes Nines feel...accepted. Wanted. Seen.

However, when Gavin yawns, Nines realizes he cannot be selfish for much longer.

“Go to bed, Gavin,” he mock-orders, pleased by Gavin’s chuckle at the other end of the line.

“I don’t want to,” Gavin whines, and this makes Nines smile too.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” he probs, gently, and he can almost see Gavin shrugging.

“Not really. I mean, yeah, sometimes. But not right now.” Gavin pauses, and Nines has already opened his mouth to respond when the man confesses. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

Nines blanks out for a moment. He has never before wondered if he can blush, but he has his answer when he feels his face burning, and absently wonders why on earth would CyberLife make an android that can blush.

“I see,” he manages to choke out, gracelessly. His thirium pump is beating at max capacity, and he’s embarrassed to think Gavin might be able to hear the low hum through the phone. “I--huh...well...I can talk.”

Gavin’s chuckle is soft. “I realize that,” he teases, and Nines wants the earth to swallow him.

“I _mean_ ,” he presses on, “that I can keep talking until you fall asleep.”

Gavin’s voice is serious. “That’s not why I called you.”

“I know,” Nines concedes. Still, he wants to. He’s not even sure why. He just does. “But I would love to.”

The silence on the other end of the line is tense, and for a moment Nines curses himself for having crossed some invisible line.

And then…

“Okay,” Gavin whispers, voice very small and frail.

They are silent for a few more moments while both of them get comfortable. Nines goes back to his armchair, picks up the yarn from the floor. On Gavin’s end there’s the rustle of sheets as the man gets into bed.

“Ready,” Gavin tells him, and Nines nods even though no one sees him.

“I saw two young men in the street today. With guitars. Street performers,” Nines begins. “They were not singing in English, and their music...I have never heard such music before. They were improvising, picking up melodies from one another. They were not always good,” Nines smiles as he remembers. “They made plenty of mistakes, and sometimes they were out of tune. But they were so involved in their music, that it didn’t matter. The mistakes didn’t matter. It was beautiful.”

Like this, Nines talks and talks, telling Gavin about all the beautiful things he has seen, only stopping when all he can hear is Gavin’s breathing evening out in sleep.

For a very long moment, Nines just listens.

It’s the middle of the night, and the city is quiet. And only then, listening to the peaceful sound of Gavin sleeping, does Nines finally admit his feelings to himself --his want, his longing, and how hopelessly in love he is with Gavin.

* * *

**+1 You**

When Gavin presents the red rose to Nines, the android doesn’t accept it at first.

It’s not because he doesn’t want it --he does, he wants everything Gavin will give him-- but because he’s simply stunned.

They are out, walking in the park, in what Nines has very firmly told himself isn’t a date. Except there is a woman selling roses, and Gavin buys a red one, and when he presents it to Nines it’s very difficult to misunderstand Gavin’s intent.

However, after the first couple of seconds, Gavin’s face falls, and Nines has never hated himself more than at that moment.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Sorry, I thought...” he stammers, already retreating. “You’re always talking about beautiful things, and I thought...I misunderstood…this can be a friends thing, I’m so sorry...”

Gavin has already turned away when Nines finally is in control of himself again. He grabs Gavin’s wrist to stop him, his thirium pump beating so quickly in his chest that Nines feels like it might break at any second.

“No, you did not misunderstand,” he hurries to say. Gently, he turns Gavin around, takes the red rose from him to press it against his chest, above his metal heart. “You did not misunderstand,” he whispers again, very softly.

“Nines?” Gavin asks, and it’s the hope in his voice that makes Nines finally look up.

There’s fear in Gavin’s eyes. Fear and hope and disbelief, and Nines loves him then, god he loves him so much, so he steps closer so their words are protected between them.

“Your smile, too,” Nines confesses, the words only for Gavin. “Your smile is beautiful.”

Gavin closes his eyes at the confession, like it hurts him to hear.

But Nines cannot stop now. “The way you look at me when you think I won’t notice.”

He takes a step closer, and the way they are now they are basically embracing, with only the red rose between them.

Slowly, Nines leans down to whisper in Gavin’s ear. “What I feel for you.”

Gavin shivers, and when he opens his eyes there’s a question in the way he looks at Nines.

Nines nods, and Gavin closes the space between them, lips touching for the first time.

Nines is embarrassed by the sound that comes out of him. A soft whimper, full of need. It shakes him to the core, because Gavin’s kiss is so very gentle, and Nines wants so much it’s overwhelming.

When they break the kiss they’re still so close their foreheads are almost touching, and this close Nines can count the freckles on Gavin’s face, can distinguish the specks of color in his grey eyes.

“You.” Gavin tells him, brushing a hand against Nines’ cheek in a caress. “You. You’re so incredibly…”

Nines doesn’t let him finish. He drinks the words directly from his lips, words of love, promises for the future. They kiss slowly for a while, and when they pull away again they’re both smiling.

And when they walk away, hand in hand, Nines thinks that the world, too.

For such a harsh, awful place in which so many bad things happen, the world, too, is surprisingly beautiful.


End file.
